The small extension seat allows grown adults to ride it… they’re small bikes! The handle bars are from a girls town bicycle. The tank position was moved to a more traditional neck mount. The new seat was made and upholstered in vinyl with red piping as a reference back to its Aust Post heritage (They are all painted red).
Along with the original lounge chair tractor seat, this was removed and a unit from a CT125 Ag bike was used after some dent fixing and lining. This new mount also houses the repositioned key.Ī standard Postie has an under-seat mounted fuel tank. (Having said that they are near on indestructible and very reliable). This also adds strength to what is their weakest point. “The rear guard (which is an extension of the pressed frame) was cut shorter. A new tank / seat mount was fabricated and bolted into the “V” formed by the frame neck and rear section. The great thing about the CT is their simplicity so any work done is an easier exercise than on most bikes.” Whilst a few things were broken and missing it was basically all there. After exploring a few aesthetic possibilities the bike was stripped, cleaned and sanded down. “Like many Posties, ours was gathering dust in a shed having served (after its Australia Post stint) as a farm bike/kids bike and had plenty of mud to prove it. In both countries the bikes are affectionately known as ‘Posties.’”
Honda ct 110 postie bike free#
This was done to free up the left hand from clutch levering and therefore deliver mail more effectively. Honda in conjunction with Australia and New Zealand Post adopted the motorcycle and models sold to those countries feature a centrifugal clutch. It boasts a 105cc 4-stroke air cooled single cylinder engine with a four speed transmission and an automatic clutch. “For those of you who don’t know the Honda CT110 began production in 1980 and was designed to replace the CT90.
Here’s Leo from long-time Pipeburn stalwarts, Ellaspede Customs in Brisbane. The bike I was on? The Honda CT 110 “Postie”. Thinking back, that was the exact point I fell in love with motorbikes. Well, technically speaking I probably WAS an idiot – a phrase which would be repeated many times over the next hour by my angry parents. The roar of wind in my ears is deafening, but within seconds it dies away as I back off and roll to a stop in the middle of nowhere, grinning like an idiot in almost complete silence. Still I fight on until I realise that the bike has no more left to give. They begin to water profusely, which not only decreases my already limited vision to something now resembling being underwater, but has the added effect of creating copious amounts of tears which are almost instantly blown back into the hair above my ears. As the bike tears through the summer air I soon realise that the wind blast means that I can’t keep my eyes open, but the speed I’m travelling at means I can’t shut them either. It’s a warm Saturday afternoon and I’ve decided in all my 11 year-old wisdom that I’m going to ride a motorbike as fast as it will go on a deserted public road with a complete lack of skills, safety gear, licence or fear of death. Piallaway Road, Currabubula, North Eastern New South Wales.
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